Thank You, Coach.

A couple of weeks ago, my former AAU coach Ritchie Davis passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. As grief strikes, most people follow with something like “it still doesn’t seem real” but for me, it feels about as real as it can get. This is probably because Coach Davis was about as real as they make them.

I wanted to write about Ritchie not because he was my best friend or best coach I ever had, but because he deserves that and writing is my current outlet for remembrance. I cannot hug him or talk to him or even attend a funeral, so this is what we have left.

If you grew up in Wisconsin in the last 15-20 years and were anywhere NEAR the game of basketball, Ritchie was a presence for you. His presence was felt, and most certainly heard, wherever he went. His sheer loudness and passion vibrated in gyms across the country, and everyone knew he was synonymous with the best of the best in youth basketball. AAU Grassroots was forever touched and shaped by his work. The part that did not feel as immediate, due to immaturity or lack of understanding, was his impact on me.

I first started playing for Ritchie when I was 15 years old as a freshman in High School. My teammate TJ (Bray) and I joined from our then program of DTA to join the Fox Valley boys to form a Playground team. I wasn’t scared of Ritchie, but I knew there was some crazy there (as I used to describe it). I was used to loud and intimidating coaches, as my dad was one of them for most of my life. What I was not prepared for, was for someone to always care more than I did. 

As I think back, I am always in awe of that team. We had 7 core players for 3 straight years. 4 of them eventually played D1, 3 played D2. 100% of the team got their collegiate years completely paid for. At the time I couldn’t realize it, but the far-too-late part of me now knows that was such a large part due to Ritchie. He clawed our way into every tournament. He called every coach at every hour of the day. He ensured we played the best teams in the country (trying to guard Kyrie Irving isn’t fun - I do not suggest trying it). A portion of my full scholarship was due to him, and I never could comprehend the complexity of his part in it all.

I wasn’t thankful that he took our cell phones to focus on games. I wasn’t too happy with him begging tournament organizers to make us play at 8am every day. I wasn’t in love with the constant screaming or demanding of excellence. I wasn’t a fan of practicing as hard as we did. 

I was, however, a fan of his drive that never quit. I admired his advocacy. I was in awe of his never-ending, limitless love of basketball. I was a spectator of his commitment to being a great dad. I was supportive of his stubbornness that his teams were the best, and always would be. I’ve never cared about anything as much as he did. 

When I came out publicly in college, Ritchie was of the first five people to call me. It pains me to say I still have the voicemail on my phone and played it multiple times this week. You all know that raspy voice. This time it was full of hope and support and love, a lot of feelings that are not immediately felt until too late. 

I don’t have much to say at this point, as the full spectrum of grief hasn’t come to pass. Maybe one day I will be able to more articulately describe the dichotomy of this man with so much heart. I played in the same program as hundreds of PGC players and anyone connected to Ritchie knew the intricacies of his persona. A nag in your side and also a friend. A stubborn yeller but also a fighter. A networker but also a dad. 

Basketball in Wisconsin will never be the same. PGC Family holds a different meaning now. Once boys, now men, and tragically too late, I think we all collectively hold the same to be true.

Thank You, Coach.